


Everything Heals Eventually

by round_robin



Series: Tumblr Prompts [11]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Canon Injury, Kissing, Licking, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Oral Sex, Scar Worship, Self Loathing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:20:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29128632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/round_robin/pseuds/round_robin
Summary: “You’re sulking, that’s fine, I sulked after my face got torn up too. Now Geralt’s the prettiest and we just have to live with that.” Eskel couldn’t suppress his chuckle and Lambert smiled. “See, I knew you were under that sour puss.”
Relationships: Eskel/Lambert (The Witcher)
Series: Tumblr Prompts [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1739158
Comments: 34
Kudos: 142





	Everything Heals Eventually

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prompt from araglas1989, "Eskel got his scars from his Child Surprise and is clearly hurting. To everyone's surprise, it's Lambert who brings him out of his self-hating shell."
> 
> I'll take any excuse for a good scar worship, so of course that's the direction I took it. There is mention of Eskel/Geralt/Lambert in this, but since that's not the "main" pairing, I didn't tag for it.

The scars healed nicely. That’s what everyone said. “Could’ve been worse,” Vesemir said. “Coulda lost the eye.” He was trying to help, and Eskel knew that. But it didn’t help. Not when Geralt smiled and said Eskel didn’t look any different to him, not when Vesemir said all Witchers ended up with a facial scar eventually, none of it fucking helped. Because Eskel didn’t get scratched up on a contract, or in a bar fight, or any other way Witchers got their scars. His were the direct result of him being a coward. Not strong enough to help Diedre, or keep her safe, or keep the rest of his family safe. He was a weak coward and now the world knew it as he carried the proof on his face for all to see.

Lambert didn’t say anything about Eskel’s scars. He was there to help after the injury, cleaned him up, whispered soft words to comfort, “It’s okay, let the pain out, you’re fine…” but when Eskel returned from a season on The Path, his face mostly healed, only the livid red lines there to mark his shame, Lambert was uncharacteristically silent about it.

Eskel didn’t know why, but that was almost worse. Geralt and Vesemir tried to treat him like normal, but the odd, “I’ll make stew for dinner, easier to chew,” reminded him they were still _cautious_ around Eskel. Lambert was never cautious, he shoved and pushed when he shouldn’t, growled over games of Gwent… So yeah, the silence, the complete non-acknowledgement of it, was definitely worse.

The first night they were all together, dinner was more of a feast. Vesemir brought out some good wine and they’d compare notes from their year. Eskel was not in a feasting mood and retired to bed before Geralt and Lambert could cajole him into a game of Gwent. He wasn’t in the fucking mood.

Two sets of sad yellow eyes followed him as he left the hall, but not Lambert’s, the indifferent prick. Was Eskel so hideous that he didn’t even deserve a look anymore? After the sacking of Kaer Morhen, they all grew closer, and Eskel relished that relationship with his brothers… to see it shattered so easily like his shattered face… Fuck, he thought he deserved the scorn, but didn’t expect it to hurt this much.

He stripped off and crawled into his cold bed, the fire in his room almost dead. Eskel didn’t care and fell into an uneasy sleep.

He woke sometime later to find himself sweating, the fire in his hearth roaring once again, and a warm body pressed up behind him. “Though you’d never wake,” Lambert grunted.

“Though you weren’t talking to me?” Eskel tried to roll away but strong arms wrapped around him stopped his movements. The heat from the fire, the furs and Lambert made his skin sweaty and sticky, made it hard to wiggle out.

“I talked to you all night. I asked you to play Gwent.”

“You didn’t look at me once,” Eskel growled. “My face too hideous for you now?”

“Will you fucking stop with that?” A warm nose slid up the back of his neck and Eskel had to admit, it felt good. Tight hugs from Geralt when he first arrived were the only fond touch he’d had before now. Whores didn’t want to touch him out on The Path, not anymore (not that he went in for that in the first place) and Lambert’s soft breath across his skin made him shiver. A little of the tension inside his chest started to relax.

“Good,” Lambert said. “Now, are you gonna listen to me, or are you going to bitch about it more?” Eskel said nothing, at least with Lambert behind him, he didn’t have to see the anger in those eyes he still loved.

But then Lambert manhandle him onto his back, settling on top of Eskel’s thighs and holding his shoulders tight to the bed, so he had no choice but to look at the surprisingly _soft_ eyes staring down at him. “What could you possibly tell me that the others haven’t?” Eskel growled. It was his last attempt to get Lambert to leave him to his misery. He was a coward and didn’t deserve the comfort and love of his pack, not when he couldn’t even take care of his responsibilities… How could they ever trust him again?

“You’re sulking, that’s fine, I sulked after my face got torn up too. Now Geralt’s the prettiest and we just have to live with that.” Eskel couldn’t suppress his chuckle and Lambert smiled. “See, I knew you were under that sour puss.”

He leaned down and rubbed his face against Eskel’s shoulder. Eskel couldn’t help but tangle his fingers in Lambert’s hair, pulling him closer and breathing him in. “Be mad all you want,” Lambert whispered. “Grunt and growl and shun humans out on The Path. But not _here_. Not when you’re home. I won’t let you spend the winter hating yourself, not when this is the only time we see you.”

“It’s, it’s more complicated than that.” The soft eyes, the understanding coming from Geralt and Vesemir, it was too much. Eskel didn’t deserve it. He put them all in danger. If he’d just taken responsibility decades ago, none of this—

“It’s really not.” Lambert sat up again, then leaned in close, warm breath across Eskel’s scarred cheek. “Promise me, you won’t be angry all winter? That’s my job, having two of us around here would bring everyone else down.”

Eskel tried to pay attention, he truly did, but the soft breath across the broken, frayed nerves of his scars… he didn’t fucking expect it to make him hard. He tried not to touch them, even after they healed, only shaving when he absolutely needed to. He knew they were sensitive— _painful_ —but this was so different.

Lambert rolled his hips, pushing their cocks together. “Yeah, you want more?” Another warm puff of air across his cheek, then the soft flat of a tongue. Lambert’s tongue was sharp on his best days, biting wit, cutting insults, but Eskel knew there was softness in him… “I remember after mine first healed,” he whispered, licking up near Eskel’s forehead now. The skin up there just as sensitive. “Fuck, I could come from a brush. I felt everything again. Thought this place gave me the thickest skin, but as soon as you crack it open, all that feeling floods back in.”

Lambert laid on top of him, licking and kissing over Eskel’s face, bringing out pathetic little moans until they both came. Their hips rutted together as almost a secondary source of pleasure, and when they were sticky and spent, Eskel still wanted more. Lambert ducked under the blankets and cleaned that with his tongue as well.

For the rest of winter, Lambert continued to make almost nightly trips to Eskel’s bed. They laughed and joked like normal during the day, settling into training like any other year, but as soon as he saw Eskel turning inward, hiding his face or grumbling about being “worthless,” Lambert clammed up again. It only took a few days for Eskel to put it together: if he was kind to himself, Lambert was kind to him as well. Geralt figured it out too and got in on the game, both of them ignoring him at the slightest hint of self loathing. As soon as he perked up again, he was treated to both of them in his bed at night, comforting him, loving him. But only Lambert was allowed to lick over Eskel’s scars, only he knew how to make the hurt truly go away.


End file.
